Fire on Water
by hoshiww
Summary: Can fire float on water? Will the fire be able to burn the water into steam, or will the water drown Ichigo? It's Ichigo's decision. Companion/prequel to 'Candle in the Wind'


_**Fire on Water**_

**Genre**: General  
><strong>Rating<strong>: K  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Can fire float on water? Will the fire be able to burn the water into steam, or will the water drown Ichigo? It's Ichigo's decision.  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: Contains some angst. Set after Winter War and Aizen's capture. Does not go into Fullbringer arc (mainly because I've left Bleach at that).

**Notes**: Slightly rambling. Dedicated to MadaMag and One of the Colorless. And a huge thanks to twilley for beta'ing this work!

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><p>The black smudge had come unexpectedly in the night, and directly too. I had asked— okay, fine, demanded more like— to have all Soul Society matters directed to Urahara who could then shuffle and sort out the more important information to pass onto me. I had never wanted to become a Shinigami; it was need that had driven me to become one. I had never asked to be their hero, never cared to be the greatest. I had never needed this ability to see ghosts. I had never thought to be a champion of Gods.<p>

I want, simply and plainly, a normal life.

A normal life never did entail a Hell Butterfly to enter through the window and flutter to land on your fingers. A normal teenager was never asked by the Gods of Death to accept the position of Captaincy. For starters, a normal boy of my age would never be able to see the black butterfly, much less know what a Death God is.

Watching this messenger fly away, I want to scream, yell— cry bloody murder. I want to rip that black butterfly to shreds, innocent messenger be damned. I want to punch something, kick anything— hide from everything. Most of all I want to forget. Forget those fools who call themselves Shinigami, forget those monsters called Hollows, forget the knowledge that there was an afterlife. Forget the girl named Rukia who gave me the power to protect, forget the man that had tipped it all around. Aizen Sousuke, Fifth Captain.

And they want me to replace him.

It was ridiculous, ludicrous— utterly insane. Any word that is synonymous with those would fill the blank. I am a rogue, uncouth, and barely trained— formally at least. Yet they want me as Captain. All things considered, I am the complete antithesis of their perception of a good Captain. Someone like Byakuya— cool, calm and collected, sharp and deadly when needed to be— would be more suited to the position. I lash out at the barest of provocations, I rush without thought into the direst of circumstances; I am hot-headed and vicious, but powerful. That's what they probably want, my power. A power beyond reckoning that even the strongest took an interest in. It makes sense. They want that power, to overlook it, keep it all under tabs, and maybe contain it if they had to. Or maybe they're thinking of what would happen should my services be exploited elsewhere. They want my loyalty. How better to gain that than by shoving responsibility onto my shoulders? How better to go about it than to make me Captain? Specifically the most damaged Division?

All because they fear me.

It was silly, inane— absolutely mental. If they even know me, which I realise they don't, then they would have known that I never wanted this stupid, double-edged sword. I only asked for enough to defend not a handful, not the world, just a mountain-high of people. I ended up with Seireitei's plate. Now they still want me to eat out of it. I wanted to say 'no', 'never', 'grow a pair of hands and do your own bloody work', but I shouldn't lie, especially to myself.

I am afraid of myself.

I own a power that can take one Captain-Commander level, perhaps even beyond, Shinigami down. I can take on the whole of Seireitei if I had to. My soul contains a Hollow. Correctly, I am a Hollow as much as I am a Shinigami or human and despite the Hollow's constant claims that he only wants to protect me, I am afraid that I would let loose my Hollow. I have an overwhelming urge now to step into Seireitei, Yamamoto's office to be exact, and unleash the Hollow. And if I let him out, if I used my mask, maybe, one day, I will never be able to regain possession of my body. The Hollow would be free to explore his natural instincts. Go rampant, kill bystanders, stain my hands with blood.

My teachers call it exam stress. My friends smile sadly at me. Urahara explains it as 'shell shock' or a variant. Yoruichi only shakes her head but when they think I'm not there, she's always yelling at Urahara, blaming him. Blaming these irrational bouts of anger on his manipulative and insensitive ways.

"War leaves its mark on people!" She had hissed one day. "Do you think that Ichigo wouldn't be immune to it?"

At least Urahara explained it to me. He didn't walk away, doesn't pity me. For that I'm glad. I think it's time I called on him again.

The closet where the representative badge is doesn't get spared a look as I walk out of the house. Yuzu tells me to not come home late while Karin warns me not to go and pick a fight. It's good to know that family will always be family no matter what. I wave back my assurances and calmly duck as my stupid old man sails overhead and barrels the door open for me.

Urahara isn't much different, even after the war. He still holds his fan in that damn annoying way of his, still sprouts the weirdest inventions and notions. Even as I tell him why I'm here, he has that glint in his eyes. Somehow I know what is going to come out isn't going to make my situation any better.

He snaps his fan shut. "Can fire float on water?"

What?

He must've read the incredulity on my face. "I asked if fire could exist on water and I know you have the answer, Kurosaki-san. It can't." He shifts to face me, picking his striped hat off his head, revealing his whole face to me. "You know as well as I do that Soul Society cannot allow power, such that you have, roam on its own. They have the Vizards under surveillance too— Shinji's been complaining most loudly about it but he's gritting his teeth and bearing it. You, however, are a league above them, possibly several, and as such they see you as an entirely different case."

A hand ruffles his hair, a gesture I have never before seen him perform.

"They seek to douse your flames, Kurosaki-san."

He places his hat back on, shadowing his eyes again, hiding himself from me.

"It is up to you whether you burn the water into vapour, or let them drown you."

Silence engulfs us. As I work out his riddle, I realise he is telling me I have a choice, but to pick a road requires careful deliberation. I could snort. I know that already. If he's going to sprout stuff like 'the road less taken' he could just dunk his head into a toilet. I came here for advice; all I get is a madman's words. Fire on water. I'll give him fire on water. I'll flood the basement with water and set the shop on fire. How's that for fire on water?

I scowl across the table at the man who has resumed fanning himself. It seems like I won't get anything useful from him. I stand up and sweep off into a night.

The only aspect of Seireitei's offer is that Old Gramps has allowed me a whole twenty-four hours to think and mull. There isn't much that I can mull on, however. Urahara has my mind running in circles after that whole fire on water act. Fire on water. Water on fire. Smoke and steam.

I return home, much to the pleasure of Yuzu. Goat-face is somewhere, too, off attending to some patient. Yuzu asks if I could go boil water for some tea as the patient's family was here. Trudging off to the kitchen, I pull out the kettle, fill it up, and set it on the stove. I watch as water slowly starts to warm and steam wafts up.

Huh.

Grabbing a pan and filling it with water, I set it down while I grab some matches from the cupboard. I light one and drop it into the water. Steam hisses as the match slowly sinks to the bottom, flame extinguished. I light another match, and set to place it gently on top, but the moment it touches the water, it hisses, spits and goes out. I let go of the match, watching as it slowly spirals to the bottom, landing on top of its twin. A big, fat cross they form. The answer to my endeavours.

The kettle whistles loudly next to me and I rescue it from the flames below. Now, why couldn't it be water on fire with metal in between the two? I pour out the water into the dainty teacups Goat-face had bought a long time ago. Because there is no 'something' in between. Leaving it for Yuzu to offer the patient's family tea, I proceed to dump the water from my experiment into the sink.

If there is oil, the fire could burn brightly on the water, but there is no oil. There is nothing between me and Soul Society any more. There is no Aizen for me to work towards, just like how there is no metal.

Urahara had said I could burn the water into steam, but I'll need a bigger flame to do that, to burn the whole of Seireitei— a small match isn't enough. Even I know that things have limits, no matter how many times I push at that border. There is no need for me to push at the borders now. Seireitei is just doing their jobs. My powers— my spiritual energy— creates a dangerous weight on the already precarious balance. I am the one who attracts the Hollows into Karakura. I am the flame that draws the moths in. I am the fire that burns these moths and these moths, in their deaths, plummet towards the water, polluting it.

Urahara spoke of another option. Letting the water douse the flames.

I push all thoughts about fire and water away for the morning after and head upstairs to my room. I could burn Urahara's favourite hat for putting these thoughts into my head.

Morning comes and goes, the thoughts lingering on my mind feather-light like a thin layer of freshly fallen snow. Sitting outside on a flight of steps overlooking the soccer field and the river, I wonder about my choices again. I had gotten through school without having to dwell too hard on them, but now I have to reach a choice before the sun falls from the sky. And I don't really have to think too hard on it.

After all, whichever way you look at it, I am the source of problems. Hollows are attracted to my reiatsu, leading them to step into Karakura Town, and I can't, really, be in two places at once, I can't kill every single Hollow that passes through. I have a life here, a future all set before me. I have friends too, who live in Karakura. And because of the association and interactions with me, my friends too have developed spiritual awareness. It was indirectly my fault that Inoue was dragged into Hueco Mundo, my fault that Ishida learnt of his grandfather's ultimate demise, my fault that Chad became akin to a Hollow, and my fault that Rukia was forced to give up her powers to protect me and my family and come to be despised by Soul Society.

It was my fault, that rainy June all those years ago.

I can picture Urahara in my head, his eyes shadowed but the sadness etched clearly in them. "Shell shock," he'd repeat.

I snort.

The sun slowly dips, making the water glow a deep, fiery red. 'The sunset was best observed from the bridge.' I can't remember who told me that. Mum? Inoue? Rukia? A passer-by? Maybe this is another form of fire on water, but it couldn't be, because the sun isn't there. Only the reflection is.

Argh. Curse Urahara. One day, once Urahara has run out of his usefulness, I will strangle the stupid shopkeeper.

As the sun makes its final descent and blaze one last smile at his children, and as the birds are making a cacophony of noise and chatter, the black butterfly returns to settle on the railings beside me. I don't make a move to do anything. The butterfly waits patiently. The pink and purple hues of the daylight fades slowly away and the birds move to their lodgings in the trees. The rumbling of cars grows distant as the last few people hurry to reach their families. I stay, watching as the world embraces the darkness. The butterfly stays. Should I move, I know it will too.

I don't wait for the silver, crescent moon to take the crown of the starless sky. I hold great contempt for it. Instead, I lower my gaze to the now murky depths of the river, black, silent, moving.

"Tell Gramps that I accept, but I request not to be Captain of Fifth. Third, Ninth is all the same to me."

The Hell Butterfly flutters off, disappearing into the night. A streetlight nearby splutters then the orange light is quickly extinguished. The silver moon reflects into the river, glittering and pale. And the water wears it, a large white grin.

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><p>AN: Hello, long time no see. This has actually been sitting on my hard drive for months now. MadaMag suggested it, One of the Colorless reminded me of it, hence the dedications.

I just want to mention a few things:

This piece rambles quite a lot, due to Ichigo's mind running about in circles. Given the option of what may be right and what is easy, it'll be tempting to just ignore Yamamoto. But of course, we know that Ichigo is a very noble person, despite his gangster appearance!

Twenty-four hours to decide. Twenty-four hours, really, to say goodbye. Remind you of anything? Yes, I'm deliberately comparing Soul Society to Aizen. Not everyone's perfect, they'll always be people oppressed.

The reason why Ichigo 'holds great contempt for [the moon]' is due to the fact that Hueco Mundo is eternally watched by a crescent moon (which looks like a cheshire smile, I swear!). For my beta who didn't get it.

Thank you all for reading!  
><strong>x. TANgled<strong>


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